


in rainbows

by nikkiRA



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: (i mean not rn but you all know who it is), Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 06:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4381139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves her in every colour of the rainbow</p>
            </blockquote>





	in rainbows

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes 911 i have tripped and fallen into bluesey hell and i can't escape please send an ambulance and/or life alert

He loves her in every colour of the rainbow.

* * *

**Violet**

* * *

 “What are those?”

“Flowers.”

“I see that. What kind?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a botanist. They’re purple, so I assume they’re violets.”

“Are they for you?”

She looks up at him, head slightly cocked. “You sound jealous.”

He thinks about some other guy sending her flowers.

“I might be,” he admits. Part of him expects her to give him a rant about how he has no right to be jealous because he does not own her or something along those lines, but instead she just pushes the flowers towards him so he can read the card.

_To Orla. Much love, Jimmy._

“He has no chance,” Blue remarks. “I mean, they never have a chance. But this guy doubly has no chance. He has the same name as her mother.”

Gansey pushes the flowers away. She takes them from him, fingers brushing his in a way too deliberate to be unintentional.

“I’m glad they’re not for you,” he says quietly, which sounds pretty horrible, but she understands. She smiles.

“Who would be crazy enough to send me flowers?” She says teasingly. He traces the top of her hand lightly with his fingers.

“Who indeed.”

* * *

**Indigo**

* * *

“How many stupid blue polo’s do you own?”

He looks at where she’s standing. “That isn’t blue,” he says defensively. “It’s… indigo.”

Blue looks at him with an eyebrow raised. “You have said a lot of pretentious things in the time that I have known you, but I think that takes the cake for most douchey.”

She raises the shirt to look at it. He hadn’t asked her to help him fold his laundry; she had dropped by when he happened to be doing it.

“I can’t help it that I know the proper names of colours.”

“ _Indigo.”_

“It’s part of the rainbow!”

Blue smirks at him, neatly folding the shirt, and he has a sudden vision of her wearing that shirt and nothing else. He forces himself to look away.

 _This is not allowed. That is_ definitely _not allowed._

After that she makes a point to ask him the colour of all of his shirts, throwing the ones that he pretentiously names back at him.

He gets a lot of shirts thrown at him.

* * *

**Blue**

* * *

 Blue is his favourite, because everything she does is blue. Her gaze and her smile and the roll of her eyes. It’s the touch that’s not allowed and it’s the thrill he feels every time she says his name. It’s the phone pressed to his ear and her voice, quiet at the late hour. It’s how he thinks about her every time he sees the colour blue, which is pretty redundant, because he’s always thinking about her anyway.

She is lying on his bed, her head on Noah’s stomach. It is stupid, he knows, to be jealous of a dead boy. Not that that stops him.

He catches her eye from where he is pouring over maps with the magical twins. Adam is chewing his lip in concentration; Ronan is pretending he’s not staring. She smiles at him, and he smiles back, and his entire heart constricts.

His entire world is blue.

* * *

**Green**

* * *

 Blue, from her place on the grass, lets out a sigh.

“Have you ever thought of maybe getting a new car?”

He lifts his head out of the engine, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that blasphemy, Jane.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I might be able to, if I knew what was wrong with it.”

Blue lets out an unhappy noise. “Did you call Adam?”

“Yeah. He’s done work in twenty minutes. He’ll be here in thirty five.”

Blue lets out another unhappy noise.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you disliked my company.”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t need to, because he understands her silence; they can’t be trusted alone together, and it hurts too much. She lies down on the grass and throws an arm over her eyes to block out the sun. The red of her shirt against the green of the grass reminds him of Christmas colours. He thinks about that stupid Mariah Carey song.

He lies down next to her and closes his eyes. He keeps a respectable distance from her but he reaches his hand out and places it gently next to hers.

She links their pinkies together.

They hear Adam’s car before they see it, and Gansey lets go of her hand, sitting up quickly.

It hurts too much.

* * *

**Yellow**

* * *

 “That,” Ronan says from beside him, “is without a doubt the brightest fucking shirt I’ve ever seen in my life.”

He’s not wrong. Blue walks out of her house wearing what Gansey knows to be (although he can’t remember where he got this knowledge) a black maxi skirt (which, to be fair, could very well be a mini skirt, transformed to a maxi because of her height) and a fluorescent yellow tank top over a long sleeve white shirt with what he thinks might be birds all over the sleeves.

“Do you think she dresses herself in the dark?” Ronan mutters. Gansey ignores this.

He must have been staring rather obviously, because Blue stops and crosses her arms over her – very bright – chest.

“Hey dick.” He’s not sure if this is capitalized or not. “My eyes are up here.”

“What?” He lifts his eyes. “No! I was just –”

“He was wondering how you were able to harness the power of the sun in order to wear it as a shirt.”

Sometimes he is so incredibly thankful for Ronan Lynch.

Blue doesn’t stop glaring, but she uncrosses her arms and climbs into the back seat.

“Do you need sunglasses when you look in the mirror?”

Blue reaches forward and smacks Ronan on the back of the head. Ronan shoots him a look.

“Don’t look at me like that. You and Jane have to sort out your problems by yourselves. Just be careful not to look at her straight on.”

Now it’s his turn to get his head smacked, but he was anticipating this. He moves his hand over his head and grabs her hand as it tries to hit him. Ronan is playing with the radio and is paying no attention to them, and Adam is still at work. She threads her fingers through his and squeezes his fingers as tightly as he squeezes hers.

* * *

  **Orange**

* * *

When he gets outside, she is leaning against the side of his car. Noah had told him she was outside, waiting for him without ever actually telling him she was there. Thank God for slightly creepy boy ghosts. He watches her warily as she picks off her nail polish. The sun is setting behind her; orange streaks behind her head and an orange car behind her legs. She is bathed in orange. She is beautiful. Gansey wants to push her against his car and kiss her until neither of them can breathe, and then he feels absolutely horrible for thinking that.

Persephone’s funeral was today.

“Hi, Blue.”

She flinches at the name. He only calls her that in serious situations.

“Take me somewhere.”

“Where?”

Her bike is lying a few feet away, toppled over unceremoniously.

“I don’t care. Just take me somewhere. Please,” she adds as an afterthought. “Everyone at home is doing that thing where they tell happy stories to try and celebrate her life and it’s bullshit and everyone is sad and pretending that they’re not and I can’t stop crying and the papers reported that she was a psychic and we’ve gotten all these new clients and the house is perpetually packed and I need you to take me somewhere. Anywhere. Please.”

He reaches out to hug her and she lets him, burying her face in his neck. She is crying the way someone cries when they have been crying nonstop for days, when you can’t stop no matter how much you want to and it’s starting to get annoying and slightly dehydrating. He gently runs his hand over her hair.

“I’ll take you wherever you want,” he says, and he wonders if she knows he means that always.

In the Pig she pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. There are tears rolling down her cheeks that she ignores.

He drives until he can see the stars, and then he drives more. He stops eventually, and they sit in a silence that is only broken by an irritated sniffle from Blue every so often.

Eventually she speaks. “I can’t do this again. I – I can’t.”

“What does that mean?”

She looks at him, and he sees pure terror in her eyes. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“Everything.”

This is something more than Persephone, he can tell, but he doesn’t know how to ask, and even if he did now would not be the time to do it.

“Blue –”

She gets out of the car, suddenly, slamming the door and taking off across the field. He swears and follows after.

“Blue – wait.” He catches up to her, grabbing her arm. “Wait.”

She looks at him with such a naked expression of what he thinks – of what he hopes – is love. She reaches out and touches his cheek carefully. There is orange on her fingernails, too, he notices. They match the Camaro perfectly.

He wonders if he will have to go the rest of his life without kissing her. If their first kiss will be when he is ninety and on his deathbed. He wants to tell her he loves her, but there’s no sense in making this worse.

She sighs and then shakes her head, as if to clear it. “Sorry.”

He wants to tell her not to worry, but instead he just tucks her hair behind her ear. It is a futile gesture that he enjoys nonetheless.

“Will you take me home now?”

“I’ll take you anywhere.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but she gives him the smallest smile, which makes it worth it.

* * *

**Red**

* * *

 He’s scared, at first, when he sees the red on her, until he realizes it’s his blood, not hers. The thought is comforting.

“Gansey…” she grips his sweater, tears streaming down her cheeks. He doesn’t want her to cry.

He reaches out to touch her face, gently. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.” This is a lie. It will not be okay. He is dying. He is dying and he loves her and she is not dying and she loves him and this is so impossibly far from okay.

There’s only one thing left to do. “Okay, I’m ready.” This, too, is a lie. Ronan would be so disappointed in him. “Blue, kiss me.”

The kiss is perfect, except for the fact that he is dying and even if he weren’t, this would kill him anyway. But her lips are soft, even though the fingers that bite into his shoulders are not. He thinks of all the times he was not able to kiss her.

If he has to die, this is the way he wants to go. He kisses her hungrily, and she does the same, clutching at each other as if they were life preservers, instead of the exact opposite.

Blue is crying so hard he’s afraid she’s going to have a panic attack. Her lips are red, and he kisses them again.

“It’ll be okay,” he says. His last words to her are a lie.

He dies with her tears on his face and the taste of her on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> i did reverse roy g biv so we could end with red because i hate myself :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Colors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795911) by [poetic_leopard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetic_leopard/pseuds/poetic_leopard)




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